Behind the Curtain
by amostpeculiarlostgirl
Summary: Set post-3.11. Rumplestiltskin winds up in Oz, powerless and without his memories. The people of the Emerald City immediately rejoice, believing the strange visitor to be a Wizard who will save them from the devious plans of the Wicked Witch of the West. Belle, hearing of the Wizard, heads to Oz to seek out his help.
1. In Which a Yellow Brick Road is Laid

_I: In Which a Yellow Brick Road is Laid_

Oz was a dangerous place. Anybody who lived there or had ever visited knew _that_ fact very well. To wander without a destination could mean death, and to wander _with_ a destination could more than likely have the same consequence. While some of the animals could speak, (and they were altogether quite agreeable beasts), the majority of them could not… and they ran rampant. There were hazards around every corner: beds of poisonous flowers, trees that could pelt one to death with apples if provoked, and most terrible of all, _witches_.

More specifically, the Wicked Witches of the East and West. The Witch of the East had reigned over Munchkinland for decades, and her cruelty toward the citizens of her domain knew no bounds. It seemed that every day, she stripped them of more and more of their rights, until… well, they were more like slaves than a governed people. The Witch's power came from her shoes, a pair of sparkling ruby slippers, which held unknowable amounts of magic.

It had looked as if the Witch would _never_ die, but then… One day nigh on fifty years before _this_ story takes place, a little girl fell into Oz. Or, rather, her _house_ fell into Oz. And all at once, the one great dream of every Munchkinlander came true: the house dropped directly onto the head of the Wicked Witch of the East, crushing her into an early grave.

Her shoes passed into the hands of the child, much to the chagrin of the _other_ witch. The Wicked Witch of the West was much, _much_ worse than her sister. She already possessed powerful magic of her own, and if the slippers were in her hands, well… there was no telling what she would be able to do. But she was unable to take the shoes while the girl still lived, and although she tried her best to kill Dorothy Gale and her band of friends, each attempt was met with failure.

And so, the Witch of the West bided her time, waiting for the moment to strike. Waiting for the moment when, perhaps, _she_ could finally have a happy ending.

* * *

It was a fairly average day in the Emerald City when our story began. The marketplace was just opening, and the Horse of a Different Color was transporting visitors into the city. Visitors, being rare, were welcomed. After all, the Emerald City was smack in the center of the country, and it was a long and perilous trek for _anyone_ who wished to travel there. These particular visitors were from the Vinkus—the territory of the Wicked Witch of the West—and they had a frightful tale to tell.

"She's planning something," the short little man told their driver in a dreadfully accented voice that was difficult to understand. "We got nervous. We ran."

"Do you mean to say," asked the mustachioed driver in awe, "that you escaped the Vinkus under the eyes of the Witch?" After all, _everyone_ knew that the Witch had enslaved the Winkies decades ago. Because of this, they were altogether a quite mysterious people. "And that you managed to reach the City without being eaten by the beasts in the forest?"

"The Witch was not home," replied the woman sitting beside the man, her accent just as prominent and her voice much softer than her companion's. "We were the only ones brave enough to flee."

"To warn you," added the third of the visitors. "First the Monkeys… Then the Bees…"

"And now the wolves!" the woman cried, covering her face with her hands.

"Wolves?" The driver looked alarmed, bringing the Horse to a halt and turning to look at her questioningly. "You say she's been training wolves?"

"The Wild Ones!" she exclaimed, lowering her hands and nodding furiously. "They can speak now, but- but…"

"They are no less wild," finished the short man. "They do her bidding, just as the Monkeys and Bees do."

"The forest is empty," input the third. "She has taken the beasts and chained them up. With her away and the forest safe… It was easy to run."

Before the driver could ask any more questions, the Horse reared and let out a frightened whinny. All eyes in the marketplace looked to the center square, where a wisp of wind was swirling like a contained tornado. "What is that?" cried one man, clutching his children to him protectively. Indeed, none of them had ever seen the like of it before.

"It's Dark Magic, that's what it is!" cried an old woman from where she sat selling quilts. "It must be!"

The three visitors from the Vinkus exchanged worried glances and slunk down in their seats. Had the Wicked Witch returned home and noticed their absence? Had she come to take them back? Or worse, to kill them for escaping?

Another moment passed and the phenomenon faded… leaving a man in its wake. He was dressed in very odd clothing, noted a small child. _He_ was very odd, said another.

Nobody moved at first. The man groaned, reaching out a hand to push himself up—and fell back down a moment later, grimacing at a sharp pain in his ankle. He looked up at the crowd, his deep brown eyes filled with fear and confusion, and managed a meek inquiry. "Where- where am I?"

_Who am I_? That would have been a better question, because the unfortunate man could remember nothing.

The citizens of the Emerald City declared that they had best call for the help of Glinda the Good. Glinda was one of two Good Witches in the Land of Oz. Beautiful and kind, she was always willing to lend a helping hand to any who needed it.

She arrived quickly, surveying the situation with a scrutinizing gaze and listening to all accounts of what had happened. The poor, trembling man at the center of the great mystery could do nothing but wait to hear what she had to say.

Glinda, at last, approached him and knelt down so that the two of them were face to face. Even in the midst of his uneasiness and fright, the man could appreciate the sweetness of her face and the gentleness of her voice when she spoke to him. "Well… Are you a Good Wizard or are you a Wicked Wizard?" she asked softly, her golden ringlets bouncing.

The man froze, his brow knitting in an expression of deep thought. He didn't know the answer. He didn't know anything. "I… I beg your pardon," he answered, his voice shaking with each word. "But I—I don't think I'm a Wizard at all."

"You dropped into Oz somehow," she laughed. Her laughter was like the tinkling of bells, thought the man idly. "It must have been magic. So, are you Good or Wicked?"

"If I may, Lady Glinda," said a young woman from the crowd. "I've always heard it said that Wicked people are ugly. Is that the truth?" The Good Witch nodded her head… and then laughed gaily once more at her own folly.

"That _is_ true. And as this man is surely not ugly, he must be a Good Wizard. This, citizens, is the miracle we've all been waiting for!" Everyone knew the beginning of one of Glinda's speeches when they heard one. "As you know, the Witch of the West has stirred at last! She is building an army of the Wild Ones to do her bidding." There were scattered gasps throughout the crowd- and even the driver, who _already_ knew this, acted as if he was just hearing of it for the first time.

"And now, this Wizard has dropped into the very heart of the Emerald City. I give you, citizens, our savior!" The man's eyes widened, his mouth going dry. Oh no… Oh no, he wasn't a savior. He wasn't an _anybody_. He didn't even know his own name. "He will be the one to rescue us from the Witch's Wicked powers! Isn't this _wonderful_, everyone? Isn't _he_ wonderful?"

All eyes turned to the unlucky man, but each and every pair was shining with enthusiasm, believing fully in Glinda's words. They adored him already, and he hadn't even _done_ anything yet. "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

And the applause began.

* * *

He became an overnight celebrity, although the only ones who ever laid eyes on him were those who had been there that day. And the unhappy Wizard paced back and forth throughout his new rooms—the best in the city—and waited for it all to go wrong. He wasn't a Wizard. He didn't have magic. He couldn't _protect_ these people from anything. He was lame. He was friendless. He was _nothing_.

But he must have been somebody once… There must be _someone_ out there who knew him, who would be able to tell him about his past. A family member or a friend… But, if what he had heard was true, Oz was dangerous. Hardly anyone who tried made it to the Emerald City in one piece.

And thus, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz made his first decree: that a road of yellow brick should be laid, stretching across the entirety of the country and connecting the different regions. It would be a safe path, a path that led through no unfriendly territories and would make it easy for anyone to reach the City.

Within a year, the road was completed and the Wizard, shut away in his rooms, waited patiently for a miracle.

* * *

**A/N: **This was more of a prologue than anything. Don't worry, Belle will appear in the next chapter :) Please leave me some feedback- especially about Oz itself. I've sort of mixed different depictions of it but if I've gotten any details wrong, please let me know!

Thanks for reading!


	2. In Which a Beauty is Without Her Beast

_II: In Which a Beauty is Without Her Beast_

This castle no longer felt like home.

Belle ran her fingers along the familiar wooden table in the dining hall, making thin trails in the heavy layer of dust. She had used to sit here, she remembered, when she talked to _him_. Sometimes he would sit there, as well; and other times, he would be in the corner of the room, seated at his spinning wheel.

It had seemed to her that he was _always_ at the wheel. Day after day, he had spun his straw into gold— more than he would _ever_ be able to spend. He had been an enigma at first, a mystery. He had been a puzzle that she was eager to put together.

What was he now? _Dead_, she thought to herself, blinking back tears for what wasn't the first time. _Gone_.

Neal stood idly in the doorway, looking unsure as to whether he was welcome in the room while Belle appeared to be so deep in thought. She hadn't seemed to notice him yet, but that was nothing new. Belle hardly seemed to notice _anyone_ anymore.

A piece of her was missing, Neal mused. He knew the feeling. Without Emma and Henry, he felt as if a piece of him was missing, too. What was paining Belle was hurting him, too, but he tried not to dwell upon it. He needed to stay strong, if he planned on finding a way to return to the Land Without Magic. He had to get back to what little family he had left, now that his father—

"Baelfire." He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his old name, a name he'd long since abandoned. Baelfire had been a hopeful little boy, a little boy who hadn't yet been exposed to the world's cruelties. That child was dead now, and Neal was all that was left of him.

Belle had finally seen him. She gestured to the little corner where once, many years ago, an imp had sat spinning gold. "That was where he kept his wheel," she whispered, her blue eyes filling with tears. "And… oh, there used to be a candelabra on that table." Her voice was shaking violently, and she knew that if she were to say one more word, she would begin to sob.

_Again_. She had been doing that a lot, recently.

"Belle…" Neal finally gained the courage to step into the room, swallowing hard as he moved to embrace her. "He would want you to be happy. You know that…"

Oh, but that was easier said than done, and both of them knew it.

"Have you seen your things?" Belle asked him, blatantly ignoring his words. Her True Love had been just that: her love and her happiness. She _couldn't_ be happy in a world where he didn't exist.

As she had predicted, she was now openly crying. Neal held her closely, running his fingers soothingly through her chocolate curls. "He kept them all… I found them when- when I lived here with him. They were upstairs in the attic." It wasn't _fair_. Rumple had spent a lifetime searching for Bae, and he'd only just gotten him back when— oh, she couldn't bear to think about it.

Neal shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. His father had kept _everything_? Were they still here, somewhere in the castle? All of the remnants of the childhood he'd tried so hard to run away from…

But now, he _wanted_ to remember it. Those memories were all that he had left of the man he'd called _Papa_.

He took a couple of deep breaths before drawing away from her and opening his mouth to answer. "D'ya… wanna go with me? To look for 'em?" But before Belle could respond, a loud _bang_ issued from the entry hall of the castle and the two of them could hear Regina's voice resounding through the corridor outside.

"_Belle_!" Hastily wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, the young woman moved to open the door to the hallway— but was beaten to the punch by the Queen, who strode into the room as if she owned the place (and as if its previous owner hadn't _just_ died a few days earlier).

"What do you want, Regina?" Neal jumped to Belle's defense. "I _really_ don't think she wants to talk to you right—"

"I'll talk to her," Belle cut in, her voice still quivering but not quite as much as before. "Why are you here?" The Queen didn't reply at first; she, like Belle, seemed to be taking a moment to herself to remember how this castle had _used_ to look.

The imp's treasures were all but gone; no doubt they had been stolen and sold by thieves during Rumplestiltskin's imprisonment in Snow and Charming's cell. But Regina could recall how every inch of this room had been filled with objects, both magical and non-magical. She remembered sitting at that very table, bargaining with him and, on occasion, enjoying a spot of tea. They'd been friends, she thought to herself, in a strange, unorthodox sort of way.

While she wasn't as broken up by his demise as Belle was, the Queen couldn't deny that it had _stunned_ her, rocked her to the very core of her being. Rumplestiltskin had always seemed invincible.

"The Wicked Witch," she finally answered, after what had seemed like hours of silence.

Belle's brow furrowed in confusion. For now, any thoughts of her True Love were pushed to the back of her mind. "What about her, Regina?"

"She's planning something. She's been surveying my kingdom." Neither Belle nor Neal pointed out that technically, the kingdom was Snow and Charming's, although both of them were thinking it.

Just the day before, Regina had spotted the Witch flying on her broomstick… and she knew what it meant when a powerful sorceress showed up in someone else's territory. "I believe she intends to conquer the Enchanted Forest." Or, what was left of it, anyway.

The Wicked Witch of the West hadn't left Oz— Hell, she hadn't left the Vinkus— in decades, as far could Regina could remember.

"And… what do you want _me_ to do about it?" Belle asked uneasily. She still didn't trust Regina completely, and with good reason. It was difficult to think well of someone who had locked her up for thirty years. "You've magic, Regina. Surely you can handle it."

"I don't think you understand, dear. You think _I'm_ bad?" She chuckled darkly. "The Witch of the West is _far_ worse. She's _enslaved_ her people. She has an army of thousands. And what do _we _have?" Regina rolled her eyes. "An army of dwarves, and knights who haven't lifted a sword since the Curse was cast. If she comes here, we're defenseless."

"And again, you still haven't told us what you want us to do about it," Neal cut in, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't want _you _to do anything, Cassidy," Regina shot back. "I want _Belle_ to go to Oz and find out what she's planning."

Belle tensed, biting her lip nervously. She'd always wanted to be a hero— and she _had_ been, on several occasions— but spying on a powerful Witch? It seemed _too_ dangerous. But, then again… what did she have left to lose?

"Why me?"

"Because you're intelligent, dear," answered the Queen, as if the answer was painfully obvious. "You're clever. I like that." Pausing, she peered once more around the room, her eyes focusing on a pedestal a few feet away. Once, she remembered, a precious chipped teacup had had a home there.

"And… Rumplestiltskin trusted you. He would have said you were the best person for the job."

The tears returned unbidden to Belle's eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of the Queen. Rumple had always believed in her, she thought, even when she didn't believe in herself. Regina was right; he would tell her to go, to be a hero…

To be brave.

"I'll do it," she said, nodding her head firmly. "I'll find out her plans, and I'll bring them back to you."

"Belle—." She held up a hand to silence Neal, much to Regina's undisguised pleasure.

"I knew you'd be sensible," the Queen said, heading toward the door. "I'll come back tomorrow, and we'll send you on your way." Before she left the room, however, she turned back to cast a sad smile in Belle's direction. "I _am_ sorry, dear…" she said softly, with such uncharacteristic gentleness that Belle couldn't help but look surprised, "…about Rumplestiltskin."

The beauty nodded slightly in thanks, and a moment later, the door slammed shut behind the Queen.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait! The next chapter will be up sooner, I promise! I was dreading writing this one because... well, poor Belle! Don't worry: she'll be with Rumple again eventually.


End file.
